WWIIIs this it?
by Aisurando-APH
Summary: Russia has started WWII and the plan is simple. Occupy weak and defenseless nations and break up NATO. Unfortunately Iceland happens to be in the middle of the war. RusxIce  EngxIce slight AmexIce DenNor and brotherly  NorIce
1. War has started

_This is a story based on the 1# World Bestseller "Red Storm Rising" By Tom Clancy. I do not own the story plot or Hetalia. I am just a fan. Please note this isnt identical to the original book_  
><em>Please enjoy.<em>

It was still dark when Iceland's phone began playing Lofsöngur loudly. His eyes shot open and he stared at the clock for a long moment before groaning. 1:56 in the damn morning. He looked at the caller ID and saw that it was America. Oh what did that incompetent fool want this time? Didn't he know that it was early in the morning? He probably did, just wanted to play a prank on Iceland. Slowly he flipped the lid open and pushed the phone to his ear.  
>"Iceland here.." He said, the sleepiness muffling his words.<br>"Iceland!" America said on the other line loudly. Although he was loud as always, instead of sounding like a cocky idiot, he sounded distressed.  
>"Mmm...?" Iceland replied back, hoping that he would hurry up and get to the point. It was too early to be worrying about America and him complaining about there being no MC Donald's when he came to see Iceland and such.<br>"Have you not heard? It's Russia, he's launching an attack on Germany." He said, the worry turning his voice higher pitched and almost strained from the amount of sound coming from his voice box.  
>Iceland blinked. "Really? That's bad..." He replied. He tried to sound as sympathetic as he could as he himself had no army and he had no real close relationship to Germany.<br>"He's not only attacking Germany though.." He said, obviously trying to tell him something important. "He's on his way to your house...I'm sorry Iceland but I can't get there for at least 7 hours. You're going to have to hold out until I get there.." America said, sounding distressed and guilty that he couldn't be there to help Iceland. Iceland stared at the floor in shock. Not once in his life had war been started on his country. He had been invaded, but he never fought back. Iceland swallowed a large lump and slowly nodded.  
>"O-Okay America...Thanks for telling me..." He murmured before hanging the phone up. He sat on his bed for a long moment before leaping to his feet and dressing himself quickly. He called Keflavik air base and informed them of the incoming intruders. All of Iceland within 20 minutes was in battle stations.<p>

* * *

><p>"Sir, we have a visual on the target" A soldier said, informing his high leader in the respective language.<br>"Spasibo" Russia said, smiling innocently at the soldier before dismissing him. Russia looked on both sides of the ship to see 2 frigates on each side, helping to protect the carrier. Down on deck, Tupolevs were taking off, filled with bombs and weapons. His lips curved into a slight smirk before going back up to the bridge. His plan was simple. Occupy weak and defenseless nations and break up NATO.

* * *

><p>In the radar rooms, Icelanders crowded around a number of screens, watching for any intruders on the radar. This was difficult as the technology was old and hadn't been used in such a way since the cold war.<br>"Sir! 5 Tupolevs heading our direction! Make that 8." One man announced. Iceland spun around, his violet eyes wider and more desperate than ever.  
>"Permission to launch sir." Another said. Iceland thought for a moment, contemplating whether to fire missiles or not. What if they were the American planes coming early. Then again they were tupolevs. They had to be Russian.<br>"Permission granted..." Iceland replied. With a flick of a button, 10 missiles were launched at the planes, hopefully, about to bring them down.

* * *

><p>"We've got missiles" The voice fuzzed over the radio in the carrier's bridge.<br>"You've trained for this. You know what to do" Russia replied, the childish smile covering his face.  
>"Roger." The planes went in a nosedive towards the cold Atlantic ocean below as the missiles followed their course. The planes began flying in circles separate to each other before getting ahead of the missiles in a highly practiced and professional way. They were at least 4 minutes ahead of the missiles by now and on a direct course to Keflavik, Iceland.<p>

* * *

><p>"Targets still have not been reached sir." Skit. The missiles had failed and the Russian bombers were on there way with, likely, heavy armament. On the radar, the planes stopped 9,000 meters before they reached land, firing missiles and other armory.<br>"Sir! 80 missiles have been deployed and are on their way!" One of the men yelled across the room. Iceland's eyes became wider as he stared at the man.  
>"At least they aren't nukes.." Another man said, obviously trying to keep a positive attitude.<br>"With 80 missiles, they don't need to be fucking nukes" Iceland snapped, clearly confused on what to do. He had never been trained on these types of things and he was just going on what he thought was right.  
>"Everyone. Get as low underground as you possibly can." He said, keeping a calm tone in order not to start a panic. The men all jumped up from their seats and ran to the door that lead to the basement. There was a loud ear piercing screech before the whole room erupted into flames, the shock waves throwing everyone off their feet. Iceland groaned and sat up after a long while. All around him, the bodies of his own people lay scattered. The electronics were fried and the smell of gas filled the room. That was enough to bring him back into full consciousness. He stood up, swaying for a moment from the pain in his head and how quickly he got up. He felt his stomach turn and he ran to the door. He swung the door open and his eyes focused on, what used to be, Keflavik. Houses were burning various shades of orange and red. The airport had damage to it, the runways the only things being in good condition. Icelanders ran about, trying to escape the chaos. One man ran passed carrying his 11 year old son. The boy's face was painted in blood and he lay limp in his father's arms. Iceland felt as though everything inside him was breaking. His own people were dying. He had to stop this. A burning sensation began to take place in his head and it began to violently throb. Iceland groaned and put his hand to his head, finding that it was bleeding. He looked on his white shirt and saw blood staining it, the majority of it not even being his own. He felt tears prick in the corner of his eyes before another loud screech sounded in his ears. He ran to his car which, surprisingly, was still intact despite the slight burns to the doors and shattered windows. He put the keys in ignition and sped away, as all signs of anymore life had been swept away. He had to warn everybody else before it was too late.<p>

* * *

><p>He had been driving for at least 20 minutes before reaching Hafnarfjördur. He pulled up outside a grocery store and got out the car. He looked at the people gathering onto the streets, looking at the large column of smoke rising from Keflavik. Woman placed there hands over their mouths and some began to weep while a group of men began to argue about whether to go out and check for survivors or not. The excuse being the Russians could get them. Iceland sighed. Humans could be so stupid. This may very well be their last night and they are arguing. Shouldn't they show peacefulness and compassion to one another? He opened his mouth to speak before his phone went off again. He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out, flipping the lid open and answering the call.<br>"Hallo?" Iceland said, hoping it was America calling to say he would be there in at least the next few minutes.  
>"Hey Iceland. How's things going there?" America said down the other line. Iceland felt like biting America's head off for that comment. How do you think its going you idiot? I've got no army and I'm going against Russia. Oh everything's fine. We are just having a cup of tea and playing checkers. Hallo? Its a war you idiot!<br>"Keflavik just got the shit blown out of it and I'm in Hafnarfjördur at the moment about to warn the people" He answered down the phone, restraining any trace of annoyance or frustration aimed at America.  
>"Ooh okay. Well we'll be there in at least 4 hours okay? Well I gotta go, you know. War and such. Later!" America said down the phone before hanging up. Iceland sighed and put his phone back in his pocket. That idiot.<p> 


	2. On the run

Time was ticking. By now the Tupolevs would be on a course to Hafnarfjördur. Iceland spun to face the people, about to warn them of the oncoming danger. But he was too late. Within a matter of seconds, there was a loud roar as planes flew above them, dumping out heavy explosives. Iceland's violet eyes went cold, his face pale, and his lips trembling, frozen in place. It was only when a person ran past him, banging their shoulder against his did he snap out of it. The familiar screech sent memories of a few minutes ago back in Keflavik back to him. There was a large explosion, followed by violent shock-waves and vicious fires. Iceland sat up again as he heard the shop and car alarms screeching. People around him lay, faces down on the concrete, heavily bleeding, and worst of all, not breathing. Iceland stood up, ignoring the blood leaking from his own body and ran up the hills near-by. He couldn't handle seeing that. It brought back memories of when Norway would come home from invading Britain or someone when Iceland was just a small child with a loud-mouthed piffling on his shoulder. He scrambled up the hill as fast as he could, not wanting to risk coming face to face with Russia. Above him, MiG's flew at low altitude. He pressed his body into the ground as the land was quite barren, and there wasn't much shrubbery to hide him. Once they were out of range, Iceland stood again and sprinted until he found a ditch. He collapsed into the ditch, lying on his back, breathing heavily. Slowly, he felt more pain creeping over his body. When he lifted his arm to his face, he saw a deep wound, open out in his skin. He winced before realizing, these were the wounds of his own people. Damn it Russia. He slowly began to feel the hot, salty liquid exit through his eyes and make a long journey down his cheeks. Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do? It all was so vague to him. He had never been taught any of this stuff. He still didn't even know why Russia was attacking in the first place. He had nothing to give Russia. Surely it couldn't be the whole 'become one with me' story again. Iceland closed his eyes, hoping to catch at least a few moments of sleep. But how can you sleep with the sound of alarms going on in the town below, planes roaring in the distance, and the sound of his peoples cry for help.

Once the carrier docked in the harbor, Russia marched off the ship and onto the land made from a series of volcanic eruptions centuries ago. Russia was very amused by the bodies of Icelanders sprawled across the destroyed town. Now all he had to do was find the small, white haired representative of this country and make him suffer as he had suffered. He could already hear Iceland's screams in his head, causing him to smirk at the thought. He proceeded towards a jeep that had been unloaded of the carrier and he got into the front passenger side. The driver drove off and up a hill, in search of the Icelander. A MiG had spotted him running across the hillside. Now all Russia had to do was catch him.

Iceland had been walking over the hillside all night. His muscles were crying out in pain and he just wanted to fall asleep. He knew that his house wasn't too far from here. If he got there, he may be able to get better contact with other nations. He began coughing, feeling weaker by the minute. The horizon was a faded orange turning into a light grey-blue shade. He could still hear the alarms in Hafnarfjördur and the planes heading towards Reykjavik. That couldn't be good. He knew he had to move, and fast. Quickly he gathered all the strength he could possibly find and ran. He had to get to his house and contact someone as he had lost signal on his cell. His people were dying. That was just unacceptable. After what seemed like hours, and after pushing himself past what felt like his limit, his small house came into view. He trudged onto the front lawn and fumbled with the keys in the lock. Once inside the house, he walked over to the phone, dialing England. There was a long pause before he picked up the phone.  
>"Hello, Arthur Kirkland here" He spoke formally, in his usual accent. Iceland cleared his throat before answering.<br>"E-England! Um...I don't know how to say this but uh...do you think you could send me some military back up?" He asked. This was embarrassing asking his enemy of the Cod Wars this.  
>"Oh now you want my help. Unlike in WWII eh?" He joked. Iceland gritted his teeth. He knew that England was going to bring up that damn operation again.<br>"Uh...yes please..." Iceland said, not showing any negative emotions in the tone of his voice. If he got on England's bad side, Iceland may have to fight this on his own.  
>"Hmmm...Okay, since you are my neighbour and you haven't caused TOO much trouble, I'll be there within a few minutes. In truth, I'm on my way there as we speak" England said, snickering down the other line. Iceland scowled furiously. He went and did that embarrassing call for nothing! He hung up and placed the phone back in its electronic cradle before walking into the kitchen to boil the jug for a coffee. He went to the back of his house and searched for anything the may come in handy like a flashlight or a weapon of some sort. He began to clean out the wounds that had opened up on his body as the wounds had stopped appearing for a few hours now.<p>

America had already jumped out of the plane and packed his parachute a little over 5 minutes ago. He was now on his way to Iceland's house to begin operation 'Get rid of commie and replace with hero'. Long operation code name I know, but this was America we were talking about. He would just nickname it GRCRH. After a while, America met up with England, not too far from Iceland's house. Just after they had consulted with one another about attack moves and such, the noise of a jeep coming over the hill was heard. They flung themselves into the ground to see a Russian jeep drive towards the Icelander's house.  
>"Bloody hell!" England quietly cursed. Both America and England went pale-faced, hoping that that vehicle wouldn't stop at the Icelander's house. They began sprinting towards the house as fast as they could, trying to keep out of the Russians sight as best as possible.<p>

The jug in house finished boiling and Iceland poured the hot water into his navy blue mug. He stirred the coffee around as the house felt strange. Everything seemed so still and silent and the atmosphere felt icy. Just as Iceland turned around, he felt a large hand pressing his back sharply against the steel bench top. Iceland winced and focused on the face. Big nose, violet eyes; colder than his own. It was already obvious who it was. Iceland's expression was a total look of fear which caused the large Russian to smirk.  
>"Privet my sunflower" He said, trying to sound as innocent as ever. Iceland swallowed as Russia picked him up by the collar and threw him as though he was lightweight; which he was, into the wall. Iceland's back hit the wall hard. He felt more pain sink into his body and the blood fall from the back of his head. There was loud gunshots coming from Iceland's stable and the shrieks of hurt, frightened, and dying, horses. Iceland's eyes shot open and he stood, protective of the magnificent creatures. To him they were more than just pets or whatever, they were a magical being that gave us that image of magic and freedom. They were the guardians of the future. He leaped towards Russia, placing his hands on his large shoulders and pushing him into the wall. That made the Russian giggle. He threw Iceland to the doorway before dragging him further into the house by his leg. Iceland struggled and demanded to be let go, but the Russian did not listen. Before Iceland knew it, he was thrown onto his bed, with the tall Russian approaching him. <p>


	3. Rape

**Meeep! Sorry for the late update. School has been tying me down and I couldn't think of what to write D: Oh well, chapter 3 is now up. Anyway, lets get to reading this. Talley-ho!**

**~Love NatNat~**

Running quickly was difficult, especially on the rough Icelandic terrain. Iceland was used in training for the first men to land on the moon, so those not trained found it exceptionally difficult. Right now, those unlucky people just happened to be England and America, running as fast as they could to the Icelander's house once they saw the Russian military jeep driving on a straight course with the house.

Once they arrived, they found the vehicle parked out front of the house. It's khaki green camoflage stuck out like a sore thumb in the harsh Icelandic enviroment. They crashed through the door and ran around, searching for any sign of the Icelander. There was a loud scream from the bedroom, which meant only one thing. They felt their blood freeze at the tone and pitch of the young boys cries of pain and fear. There was a long moment of silence before they moved and kicked his door down. Inside, they found the tall Russian, zipping up his pants again.

On the bed lay the young Icelandic boy. His hair clung to his face, damp with sweat. His clothes lay on the floor, crumpled and torn. His bare, pale skin shone with sweat, a sheet draped just over his lower half. His entire body shook and his face was a deep scarlet. He had several yellowish-purple bruises along his jawline and across his chest and blood trailed out the side of his head.

England and America stood in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. Before Russia had a chance to notice them, America was on his back, arms wrapped around his neck in a deadlock. Russia thrashed about, pulling out his pipe trying to knock the American off him. England moved towards the Russian shortly after. Pulling out his gun, he aimed at Russia, his body shaking just the smallest fraction. On koling, the lights went out, making it impossible to see. There was a long silence, followed by a cold breeze before lighting returned.

"Let go of me ya bloody git!" Was the first thing that happened when they could see again. America, instead of putting Russia in a deadlock, he had England in one instead. America laughed before letting go. They looked around and found there was no sign of Russia, even the jeep out front had gone.

For a moment, they had forgotten about the shivering Iceland, shying away into the corner of his bed. It was obvious what had just happened. The Russian had just took advantage of Iceland's defenselessness and raped him. The room smelt stuffy with blood and sweat. England walked over to Iceland and sat on the edge of the bed. He knew what rape was like. Many times had he been raped by France, Scotland, Prussia and others. Although it had been along time ago, the memory was clear and vivid, making him to shiver.

"Iceland..it'll be okay.." He said, more like a whisper, trying to reassure his neighbouring country. Even though these two have had their battles over fish in the Cod Wars and numerous other feuds, they still were friends in intense times like this and the odd occassion where they would get along for no reason. Although both liked it when this happen, neither would admit it.

A soft whimper from Iceland sent America walking over and sitting on the side of the bed to. Making a wrong move, America placed a hand on Iceland's shoulder, who flinched from his touch and crawled further into the corner, making himself seem as small as possible. America frowned at the visible trauma that the young, white haired boy was suffering through. He stood up again and placed a blanket over his shoulders before grabbing some clothes for him out of his drawers.

"Iceland...I'm so sorry we weren't here earlier.." England said. He seemed to be blaming himself for some odd reason. Iceland just shook, the odd whimper escaping through the cracks in his lips. All down his neck, bright red hickeys and bite marks covered his pale skin. His lips were swollen and bruised from the roughness behind the forced kisses by the tall, Russian man.

After awhile, Iceland was up and in the clothes America had taken out for him. Downstairs, England and America were giving Iceland some time while they collected essentials like food and water, warmth, flashlights, anything they wound find handy. A few minutes earlier they had heard the water being run in the bath. England knew that Iceland was probably bathing, he had heard people liked to do that after being raped, perhaps to wash off that person's filthy sin off their body and to try and forget. England had never done this but Iceland was different, he just loved bathing non-stop, especially in the hot springs. Once Iceland came down, his expression looked a little better. The trauma wasn't so visible on his outside, but on his inside, both knew that he would be crying and screaming.

They decided that the best way to keep on the down-low, was to travel to Reykjavik by foot. All three of Iceland's cars were brightly coloured, and immediatly recognisable as his. Iceland knew that he was safe with England and America. They had stayed at his house many times before, all being NATO associated. During the Cold War, they visited frequently and in WWII England had stayed before America took over so England could fight elsewhere.

By now they were 5 km away from the house and it was turning to nightfall. The air became quickly icy, their breath showing.

After two more kilometers or so, it was dark and they decided to stop for the night. Iceland had showed them a cave right beside the Skula river. To get to the cave though, they had to climb down the cliff face, the rocks slick with water and moss. Luckily their boots had good grips. Once they got to the bottom, they walked into the cave and set out their sleeping bags. They climbed inside, welcoming the warmth overwhelming their bodies. Iceland fell asleep almost immediatly and America followed soon after. England kept awake to keep watch for any Russian patrols.

It was now past midnight. England looked over at Iceland to seem him violently trembling before letting out a scream. England knew he must be having a dream of what happened earlier. America sat up and hugged Iceland, not thinking at all.

"Shh..it'll be okay" He whispered. Iceland screamed again and struggled against America.

"N-no...please...d-don't do this! Let me go!" He pleaded. America stared at the scared nation and let go, confused at what he did wrong.

England walked over and sat beside Iceland. He wanted to put an arm around him and comfort him, but if anyone touched him, Iceland would freak out and panic.

"It'll be okay Iceland. Russia ain't gonna get ya now. America and I will protect you okay?" He said, flashing a kind, warm hearted smile to Iceland. It was very rare that anyone saw this side of England. Iceland hesitantly nodded and closed his eyes tightly before curling back up in his sleeping bag. England stood up and walked back towards where he was but was stopped when Iceland held onto the cuffs of his trousers.

"D-Don't go...p-please" Iceland pleaded staring up at the Briton, his violet eyes wide and desperate. England looked at him for a moment. It was a very rare occassion when Iceland begged for England to stay with him or even for help. He was so headstrong and independant on the way he went about doing things. England grabbed his sleeping bag and sat next to Iceland, allowing the boy to have the sense of security.

"Now get some sleep" He said quietly, glancing over at the sleeping American and cursing how lazy that git was. Iceland nodded before shutting his eyes again, quickly falling into the dark depths of slumber. England sighed and looked at Iceland. The way his hair was gently drapped across his face like a clean handkerchief and the way his eyes were gently closed, his long white eyelashes gently sitting over his cheek mad him look like something out of a fantasy or other world. It reminded him of one of his magical friends that nobody else seemed to see. Quickly he averted his eyes, his cheeks boiling a deep pink. If Iceland woke up and saw England's eyes on him, he would panic. He looked to the entrance of the cave before laying down, sure to keep a reasonable distance away from Iceland.

**A/N:**

**So what did you all think? Please tell me what you think should happen next or even a few ideas for later chapters. :D**

**Please review :) Till next time darlings~**


	4. This is the end

**Hey. Sorry I haven't updated in so long. I've been stuck with work and been going places etc. Aha, sorry again. Anyway, as promised, there shall be an appearance of a Nordic. Not too sure how many or if there will be all of them so lets just see how it goes. I apologise if this isn't going how you had hoped :/**

**Most likely my last chapter. It may finish on this one so it will be rather long, most likely longer than the others. So sorry if you are bored by the end XD**

**NatNat~**

Waking up to the sound of a waterfall would be nice, if you weren't in so much danger. It had been a half an hour since Iceland had woken up. America and England were still sleeping which - in his opinion - was fine. They must be tired. They weren't used to this kind of terrain not to mention watching out for danger, and being deprived of food and water often. They hadn't had any trouble with Russian forces from when the arrived to the waterfall and still now.

America yawned, stretching out and folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed way. England's eyes cracked open, showing the shiny emeralds behind his eyelids.

America found his bomber jacket beside him. He had placed it over Iceland in his sleep, hopefully to give him more of a sense of security. Iceland was standing by the cave's edge, looking out. America had guessed that he was just thinking over what had happened that night or something like that.

In truth, America wasn't the dolt everyone thought him to be. He was smart and cunning and not to mention had a heart of gold. He could tell when someone was upset, so he used stupid humour and acts to try and cheer them up. He actually felt hurt by all the mean comments people said about him, but he stayed strong, kept a smile on his face and took pride in the good old American spirit. Even if he wasn't exactly a great councellor, he knew people's boundries and limits and he knew when they were feeling down.

The war in Iceland and Germany was not the only ones happening. On the other side of the Alantic, the east side, a war was happening in Iceland's brother's country. Norway. No nation other than Denmark, Sweden, Finland and of course, Norway had been notified of this. Infact, those three were out fighting as we speak. The blood shed had been massive. Norway was feeling his body faltering with every move he made. He wasn't the strong and widely feared viking he once was. He was old and worn, and it was sure showing on the battlefield. He slowly felt the energy from his legs begin to evaporate as he collapsed to his knees, coughing up a fistful of blood. When given a moment, Finland ran over to help Norway.

Norway's face was pale, his dark blue eyes duller than ever. He felt hopeless, ready to give up now and just sleep for years and never wake up. He was old and didn't know if he could handle this any longer. Finland saw this and crouched beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on Norway. Hang in there. I believe you can do it" He said kindly. Denmark and Sweden had stood infront of them, fighting of the attackers, guarding the two. Norway closed his eyes, as if he was responding. He was beginning to feel dizzy but he slowly stood again.

There was a loud hiss of pain before a man in a long blue trench coat fell to the ground before the two nations. His glasses slide off his face and landed in the mud puddle his face had come to rest in. His eyes were shut tightly and his face was screwed up tightly from the pain. Finland screamed before scrambling over to the tall man, pulling him into his arms. Norway blankly looked at the two before there was another shriek. Norway looked over to the man who had fallen near Sweden to see Denmark, his spikey blond hair tousled in the wind and rain and stained with blood.

Slowly the emotion of centuries with these men, his brothers, began to show in Norway's eyes as their memories together leapt through his mind. He staggered over to them and pulled Denmark to Sweden and Finland. A large bang went off and without a word, Finland fell to the ground, blood leaking from his temple. On the ground he lay motionless with the Swede's head resting on his chest. On his other side, Denmark lay face down in the mud, his face ashen and his eyes shut. Blood leaked from his collarbone and neck clearly showing his fate. All three of these men were gone. The Russian soldiers were ordered to leave Norway there to die in the harsh Norwegian winter of the north. His closest friends. His brothers. They were gone. He felt even more hopeless now. He felt alone. Even more so, he felt scared. But instead of giving up, which he imagined doing, he stood and began to walk. Something was driving him to live, he just didn't know what.

America, England and Iceland had left their campsite a little over 4 hours ago. They were walking to Reykjavik as they knew that was where the Russians were headed. It was Iceland's biggest airport as Keflavik was Iceland's only military airport. Both needed to be occupied in order to complete the occupation of Iceland.

"Not far now, we can do it" America said positively. England laughed and Iceland couldn't help but to join him.

"In a car. On foot it's a whole different story," Iceland said, snickering slightly. Right then England stopped short.

"Shhh" He hissed, looking around them frantically. Iceland and America did the same, confused but listening as this was war. After a few moments of silence they continued walking.

"Privet Comrades" A dark voice said from behind them. They all froze and turned around rustily. Russia stood behind them holding his pipe in one hand and an AK-47 in the other. There was a deathly silence over the three smaller nations, causing Russia to smirk. He slowly walked over to the three and grabbed Iceland's wrist tightly, leaning in towards his face indimidatingly.

"You injoyed last night, da? Become one with Russia." He said, almost as an order. It took a few moments for Iceland to snap out of it before he began to pull away.

"No. Why would I ever become one with you?" He said cooly, not favouring to anger the Russian. Just like him, he was like a dormant volcano ready to blow, only, he was more violent and deadly. He was not someone you wanted to mess with.

"Back off Russia. You can't force him to become one" England growled, staring sharply at the tall man. Russia giggled childishly and gripped Iceland's wrist tighter, causing the smaller man to yelp.

"Oh can't I?" Russia asked mockingly.

America clenched his fists tightly, pulling out his shotgun and pointing it at the man, not afraid to shoot.

"Drop him!" He snarled at the man, his whole body tensing up with anger. Russia laughed darkly.

"Ah ah ah. I wouldn't do that" He smirked, raising his pipe just above the boy's head. Iceland tried to make himself seem smaller even though it wouldn't do much. It was just on instinct. Right on that moment there was a loud roar in the air as Allied C-17 paratrooper planes roared over their heads, dropping thousands of paratroopers. They had back up! The first men who landed were on the scene quickly, gathering infront and around America, England and Iceland guarding them from Russia. The Russian's face was that of suprise before it sharpened into a twisted smirk. At that moment, Russian troops stormed over the hill, firing bullets. England tackled Iceland, using his body as a shield. The war had begun around them as the Allies fought against the Russian opposition.

By now Iceland's clothing was filthy and torn. His mind went into slow-mo as men around him fell, blood leaking from places Iceland couldn't even imagine. B-25 Mitchells and BAC TSR-2s flew over their heads, dropping light bombs around them. There was a faint noise in Iceland's ears before he looked at England who was screaming something at him.

"Iceland! We have to get out of here now!" He shrieked, helping Iceland to his feet and grabbing his wrist, pulling Iceland with him. Just as they were running there was a screech. England snapped his head back to see America falling to his knees, blood pouring out his side. His eyes went wide and as if nothing else in the world mattered, England ran to him, leaving Iceland standing there. Iceland was frozen. He didn't know what to do. His eyes traveled off to the side and he noticed a Russian aiming his gun at England who was bandaging up America's wound.

A loud bang droned out as the bullet hit it's target straight in the head.

England looked up to see a man - who was about to shoot him - fall to the ground with a fatal injury to the head. He then looked to see Iceland with a gun, his eyes as blank as his brother's.

That was the first time Iceland had ever deliberately killed someone. He never liked war or death. To him it was unnecessary. He had just grabbed the gun from a fallen allied soldier and used it to save the men who had saved him.

Russia smirked and grabbed a fistful of Iceland's hair. Iceland cried out in pain and tried to aim the gun at Russia. Unfortunately, Russia took nothing of the gun and twisted Iceland's arm until there was a loud, deathening snap, causing Iceland to scream at the tip of his lungs in pain. England was caught. He wanted to stay with America and help him but Iceland also needed his help. America placed his hand on his former ruler's shoulder and spoke.

"Go. I'll be fine" He said with an over-confident smile plastered on his face. England bit his lip and hesitated, before complying. He ran over to them, kicking Russia in the knee and banging a large metal object over his head. Russia growled and let go of Iceland. The two began to run. Russia wasn't far behind, stretching his arm out before grabbing England and slamming him into the ground and kicking him in the head. Iceland spun around and ran at Russia, fighting to defend England. It was like a never ending game though. England would try to save Iceland and would get hurt, then Iceland would try to help England before he got in to a bad situation also. And it didn't help that Iceland had a broken arm.

There was a bright green flash as a weakened nation with straw blonde hair and deep blue eyes appeared not to far from where the three nations were fighting. Norway's knees were buckling and he felt as though this was it, however, when he saw the boy with snow white hair, that changed. He felt anger rising up within him. How dare they. That was his brother! He charged over, calling upon his magical friends. Russia felt himself being lifted up and smashed into the ground several times. Not only was he going to protect his brother, but he would get vengance for Sweden, Finland and Denmark. Russia growled, trying to free himself but it was impossible. How do you fight something you can't see?

Then Russia smirked. Oh how Iceland hated that filthy smile. It disgusted him.

"You are too late, da?" He croaked. "The planes have already taken over Reykjavik" He laughed. Iceland's face went pale. No... no! He would _not_ be one with that man! Never! A dark aura seemed to surround Russia, forcing Norway's friends to flee. He stood and looked at the three, his pipe in hand again.

"Now. Iceland. Become on-" The was a loud band as a large piece of metal hit Russia's head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Stupid commie bastard..." An American muttered, kicking the Russian's head. England and Iceland lightly smiled before the roar of more MiG-29s shot over their heads. Shit. They ran as fast as they could to Reykjavik which wasn't too far away. When they got on the otherside of the hill, they saw Reykjavik was filled with Russian infantry through the streets, airports and buildings. There was another loud whistle as B-25 Mitchells and the classic Lancaster flew over Reykajavik, unloading heavy armament. Iceland's eyes widened as he began to feel dizzy. His legs gave way but he was saved from falling by England catching him.

"It'll be okay" He said kindly.

As the dust cleared, the aftermath showed. Reykajavik was destroyed. Fires burnt through the remains of the city. Remains of buildings, transport, even people, littered the city. Iceland stared at the city that had taken so long to build. The first place where people had lived. The life of Iceland and it was gone in a matter of moments. Tears swelled up in his eyes and he sagged to his knees. England crouched beside him and gently rubbed him on the back, offering him a comforting hug. Iceland hesitated before throwing himself into England, allowing the emotions to overwhelm him. England gently rubbed him on the back and glanced up. The war over the hill had stopped after Russia had woken up and had grumpily given the order to retreat.

Norway noticed one last dust cloud that was still disappearing. Slowly, visibility in that area was increasing until they could see the miracle behind the cloud. The icon of Reykjavik, the tallest building. The Hallgrímskirkja church was still standing. England and America looked and smiled.

"Iceland..." England whispered. "Look." Iceland looked up and followed his gaze. He too smiled and wiped the tears from his eyes. He then stood and walked over to Norway, giving his brother a big hug.

"I love you, big brother" He whispered into his brother's ear, causing Norway to smile for just a second.

"I love you too" He murmured. Iceland then walked over to America and hugged him also.

"Thanks for being here for me" He said. America grinned and returned the hug.

"Nooo probleeem Icey!" He said. Iceland smiled and made his way over to England, doing the same thing he had done to the other two.

"Thanks for always being a friend to me, even when times were tough and we had our quarrels," He said. England looked suprised for a moment but nevertheless, returned the hug. At that moment, Iceland felt their hearts connect, and he was pretty sure England had felt it too.

The war had started and ended within 8 weeks. Despite the short period of time, the cost of damage was emmense. Over $9.5 billion dollars worth of damage. Russia was forced to pay heavy reparations, $25.6 billion. The death of over 800,000 Americans, 723,000 British, 400, 000 Norwegians and 4000 Icelanders. No one will forget the day that Russia had breached the SALT Treaty and had started World War III.

**A/N:**

**DONE! OMG! WOO! Anyways. Hoped you liked it and I hope I didn't bore you to tears. **

**Hallgrímskirkja: That huge Lutheran Church in Iceland. ./_oeu2ILEZCHc/TPT5RWE6zqI/AAAAAAAAAS4/OWELERK58CE/s1600/Church+of+Hallgrimur+-+Reykjavik%252C+**

**And yes. There was actually a treaty between the Allies and Russia after (or during) the Cold war called SALT. Best treaty I knew of XD**

**So anyway. Thanks for staying for this long and reading. Hope you enjoyed it. AND SORRY ABOUT KILLING SWEDEN, FINLAND AND DENMARK D: I WANTED TO ADD TRAGEDY! ;A; **


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